Tag
by Sherlock Prefect
Summary: You're it. (ChaseCameron) Beginning of a series.
1. Lightning

It's back again.

Everyone always says lightning never strikes twice, but here I am.

In ten seconds I would have been considered staring. I had to say something.

"Do you really think we'll find this mystery virus by running a thousand gels?" I turned to look at Foreman, hard as it was for me at that moment. It didn't last for long before my eyes drifted back to where they were aimed before.

Cam has a weird expression when she's working. Particularly now. Serious, focused, but sometimes she almost seemed melancholy. Maybe that was just me. Or maybe it was only now she seemed sad to me.

Maybe I shouldn't have made that comment earlier. It was only a joke. I make the most _inappropriate _jokes, at all the accordingly inappropriate times.

"No, I think we're going to find it standing around watching _other _people work."

I jumped. I couldn't help it. I felt somehow like I'd been caught doing something I shouldn't have been doing. Was I?

_Of course not. You're not doing anything at all._

I think that's what Foreman meant.

"I'm waiting for the Epstein-Barr virus," I countered weakly. I don't know why I sounded so defensive and unsure when I said it. I _was _waiting for the Epstein-Barr virus. I had been.

I just… wasn't at the moment. In the silence that followed I became engrossed in the latest distraction once again.

Sometimes when you're thinking something, you find it so interesting that you just can't control wanting to voice it out loud to other people, to get their opinion, to involve them. Even if you _know _they won't care and will look at you weird. Or worse, even you really _shouldn't _voice it out loud, for their sake sometimes, but more importantly for your _own _sake.

"She's weird, isn't she?" I hate myself. I'm an _idiot._

"Bad idea." Goddamnit, despite the incredibly skewed way I inadvertently introduced the topic, he knew _exactly _what the hell I meant.

"What?" I pretended I had no idea what he was talking about. I tried to pretend that I, myself, had no idea what I was _thinking _about, but I failed miserably in both attempts.

"Bad idea; you work with her." He has no idea what he's talking about. He's only been here what, a few weeks, a month? I've worked with Cameron for half a year, and he's implying I don't know how to handle myself in a work environment. I feel a part me of foolishly wanting to employ the I've-known-her-longer-than-you-therefore-I-win argument.

I can't. I never can. I can't talk about my problems directly, and I can't get into an argument, so I'm going to say something really stupid that won't convince anyone that I don't have this ridiculous, childish, _helpless _crush on Cameron.

Again.

"What did I say? Is 'weird' some new ghetto euphemism for sexy, like 'bad' is good and 'phat' is good? Then…" what the hell am I talking about, "what the hell does 'good' mean?" Nothing. I'm rambling. I never fail to disappoint.

"'Ghetto Euphemism?'" Foreman gave me the official "You're pathetic" face; the one with the eyebrow raised up into Heaven. I laughed it off to appear somewhat normal. He wasn't finished. "You don't think she's hot?"

Is this a rhetorical question? No wait… it's a _loaded _question. Two answers instead of zero. Only one of them is really right. The other is just protocol.

"No." Yes.

Foreman clearly doesn't believe me. He doesn't get it. He's not supposed to.

"Then you're brilliant. And I _am _using brilliant as a euphemism." He wouldn't quit. I had to make some sort of compromise.

"Obviously, the girl is hot." Obviously. "You're not talking about her aesthetics, you're talking about whether or not I want to jump her." Was he? "I don't" Wrong.

Foreman gave me a look. I hate people who give looks all the time.

"Brilliant."

I made a face as if I were still in grade school, and turned back to Cam in the next room.

She was preoccupied. She was miffed. I should never have said what I did. It was nothing, and she got carried away with it, but I never should have said it anyways. I should apologize. I should take it back. We usually got along so well. Why did times like these ever happen? I hate these times. Especially in my current condition.

Sometimes I wonder if it's the same crush that keeps dying and coming back to life or if its separate, little crushes that don't really mean anything and are only a product of stress during rough times. Or maybe this crush has never left; maybe I just don't notice it until times like these.

Forget what people say about lightning striking twice. It happens all the time. More than twice for me.

Although I suppose it really doesn't matter. Lightning hurts like hell no matter how many times it's struck.


	2. Christmas Shopping

Chapter 2

Timeline: Post-Ep for Damned If You Do

Every year since I've lived alone, even though I've had the most freedom I've ever been given, I've only ever allowed myself to open one Christmas present a year on Christmas Eve. Traditionally I have chosen the predictable bundle from mom; it was always something relaxing and therapeutic like a comfy pair of pajamas or a bubble bath. This year, assuming everything would be like usual, I bent the rule and opened her present a little earlier.

I made a mistake.

I should've stopped right there, but I didn't. I made a mistake by bending the rules was being punished for it, and now here I am flat out breaking them.

It was a box-shaped package. I picked it up from where I'd placed it under the substitute plant I used for a Christmas tree and held it in my hands for a while, turning it over, weighing it, feeling foolish for hesitating to open it because of some stupid rule, feeling foolish for wanting to open it. Idly, I wondered if this present would be here if it weren't for the events of the past week. It wasn't even as if I had done something to deserve this present. In fact, it was me who had asked for the favor.

……

"Chase…" I couldn't help but smile. It was the third time I'd called his name. It wasn't exactly unusual to turn to find that Chase had drifted off in his favorite chair, but he usually woke up at the slightest sound, as if afraid it would be House ready to rap him with his cane.

Finally, he opened his eyes.

"Cameron? What…" suddenly he groaned. "I'm at work?" he asked with a crestfallen expression. I started to wonder; Chase's work habits weren't usually this bad.

"Unfortunately you are," I replied, trying to make a joke out it. I hesitated a little before adding, "Are you feeling okay lately?"

"Why? Am I showing symptoms of disliking work? Given the circumstances, I'd consider that a sign of sanity." His reply was quick, light, and very typical. I was disappointed for a moment, like always, at his evasiveness. But I had more important matters.

"Chase, I need your opinion on something," I began in a low voice. I had to make sure once more. I looked around, in back of me, and down the hallways. No House. Chase, noticing my behavior, had an expecting-the-worst expression on his face.

"If I got House a Christmas present, what should I get him?"

A ridiculous smirk grew on Chase's face, evaporating the former nervousness.

"It depends. How hypothetical is this question?" He never missed an opportunity to tease people.

"Seriously, Chase," I entreated. Chase sobered; he was understanding like that. "You've known him longer than I have."

"Yeah, by six months!" Chase returned with a smile. "Why do you want to get House a Christmas present? I didn't."

"Well, last year you didn't know him for that long. You _should_ this year," I said admonishingly. "Come on, it isn't that hard. What would you get him?"

Chase was silent for a while. From the way he was examining me, I felt like he wasn't thinking about my question.

"We could… get him something together."

The suggestion was completely unexpected. I looked up at Chase; he seemed nervously hopeful. What did I say?

"A- alright."

"Great," he stood up as if he had somewhere to go that hadn't existed a few minutes ago when he was sleeping. "I'll meet you in the caf after work?" I think I nodded, but really I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Before he could explain, however, he vanished.

Altogether, it hadn't been what I expected.

……

I sat down at my desk and managed to wrench the present from my hands long enough to set it down and contemplate it without danger of giving in to temptation. My eyes wandered around, trying to settle on something else, until they rested on a slightly crumpled receipt I'd left there.

……

"I suppose scented candles wouldn't do," Chase wondered aloud as we passed the Yankee Candle Company. We had been at the local mall for about a half hour now, mostly scanning for a shop that might hold anything of interest, usually while Chase made valiant attempts to suggest every single item in every single window.

Chase was momentarily silent. As he walked next to me, his eyes focused on the ground in thought.

"We couldn't just get him a gift certificate?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"No! That's the worst thing to do! We have to get him something that matters. Otherwise, it's… depressing," I answered.

"Oh…" Chase momentarily looked up at me, then returned his focus to the ground. His next remark came hesitantly, decisively. " I guess I'm just not used to Christmas shopping."

I watched him carefully.

"You don't do _any _Christmas shopping?"

"Well… my mom's dead, I'm not really close to the rest of my family in Australia, my friends here and I don't buy for each other… I just never had to, really," he said, shrugging without looking up. He smiled as if to communicate that he was okay with it, but it was an evasion. I could tell he really wasn't. I knew he probably thought he was being stupid for even thinking it was a big deal, but he wasn't. It was a big deal.

Something struck me about his reply. I shouldn't have inquired. I knew I wouldn't learn anything. But I still wanted to help somehow, so I guess I just couldn't control myself.

"What about your father?"

Something in his stride faltered momentarily. His head lowered slightly more. The painful, reassuring smile grew.

"We usually don't… do anything for Christmas. We're both busy, you know?" he boldly looked up at me, smile still in place. His eyes, however, had a kind of steel wall that warned me to back off. I realized he didn't want to bring that warning into the rest of his face; for now, he wanted to change the subject and move on. He was enjoying this and he didn't want it to end.

It had never occurred to me that Chase might be lonely around now.

We were now approaching the food court.

"Hey…" I began. "Wanna get a bite to eat?"

I wondered if I'd imagined all of it when I saw all Chase's former coldness dissolve into an almost childlike joy.

……

I picked up the receipt I'd been staring at and smiled.

It was funny when I remembered how we both made excuses of having to go to the bathroom, how we'd both been gone no shorter than fifteen minutes, how we'd returned and pretended it wasn't unusual, but most of all how we'd never suspected one another. At least, I hadn't suspected him. I only realized when I got home that night what had happened. Somehow, in the process of driving me back to my car, he'd managed to slip the present into my purse without my ever noticing.

I snuck my present in the next day at work. During Chase's clinic duty, I managed to slip it into the black satchel he occasionally wore to work. It was lucky he had it with him that day. I had already gotten both him and Foreman a present, but that day in the mall, listening to Chase, watching him, the former present seemed so meaningless and superficial. I felt he deserved more than that.

I was sitting there, receipt in hand, present in mind, and I kept imagining what look he'd had on his face when he slipped it in, or the process he took on his 13-or-so minute quest to find it, or what had compelled him to buy it in the first place, or why he'd chosen whatever he had, or _what _he had chosen. I imagined the timidity or the smugness or the amusement or the suppressed laughter he may have felt.

Then I started to imagine if, when he sat down in his apartment with my gift to him, he would imagine all of those things about me.

I couldn't take it anymore. I snatched the box up and without any possible chance at hesitation I tore the ribbon off and opened it.

I didn't know what to think at first. I was almost paralyzed with shock at seeing a small jewelry box inside. In spite of myself I felt my cheeks grow hot.

There was a note. I couldn't open the box yet, so I took it up and read it:

"_Cam-_

_I wanted to thank you, but I knew I couldn't do it in person._

_I hope you like the present._

_-Chase"_

A few lines below, I could almost _hear _the smugness:

_"P.S. They're South American, I think."_

Inside the box were a pair of reasonably (thank God) priced looking sterling silver earrings, in some elaborately carved shape.

They were beautiful.

Suddenly my head filled with ridiculous notions. I felt an urge to call Chase, see if he was at home, if maybe he wanted to do something, if he wanted to come celebrate Christmas tomorrow with me and my family. I wanted to so bad. I remembered any and all of the less-than-kind things I had said and done to him in the past and felt horrible. I had assumed too much about Chase, and I was all wrong.

I didn't want Chase to be alone. Someone should be with him. _I _should be with him.

As I thought it I felt myself blush, and I could only be happy there was no one around to see it.

But I realized I couldn't do any of those things. Chase wouldn't want my help, or my sympathy; he never wanted anyone's sympathy. I also knew I couldn't convince him that sympathy wasn't the only thing I wanted to offer him. Not yet. Right now, he would only see the pity, and he would shun it. He would shun me, and I didn't want to be brushed aside by him right now.

But pity wasn't it at all. It was far from it.

But I couldn't tell him yet. One of these days, I would.


End file.
